Can Be Deceiving
by calliope-love
Summary: Liam, though handsome enough, tends to be overlooked in favor of the more obviously beautiful members of the cast. One person, however, took a second look - and then several more after that. It's all in the little details. LiamxBreak.


Break would never admit to Liam — or to anyone else, of course, but mainly not Liam, never to Liam — how glad he was that the two of them had begun the more _intimate_ side of their relationship before Break lost his eyesight.

Because it was fine, really, not seeing Liam while he loved him; it didn't stop the way Liam's hands were always so determined to ferret out every little thing that made him _writhe_ and log it all away like so much extraneous data. It didn't stop the way Liam was the perfect size and shape to make Xerxes Break of all people feel _safe_ while being held, rather than clung to or almost squished, and it _certainly_ didn't stop — it didn't stop Liam from being Liam. That was the most important part, Liam being Liam, because that was what made Break trust him enough to — ah! Another thing he had never admitted, but would if he ever found a way — fall in love with him properly in the first place.

Liam was Liam, and the others were finally starting to see just how good a thing that was, and truth be told Break was starting to feel a bit possessive over him. What if someone _else_ decided they wanted him, someone of more value than a dying old man? Liam was never going to be the kind who had to flee from hordes of ladies at parties the way Gilbert and his stupid, smarmy brother did, or the kind who could manipulate an entire room into groveling, and oh, Break treasured him for that. Liam was so much better when he was a secret for Xerxes to keep, with that _mind_ churning away where no one could see it and those pretty eyes of his hidden behind his glasses.

Break was so glad he'd bothered to _look_ at those eyes while he'd still been able to see them, not to mention the rest of him. Liam had a certain — a certain way of _appearing_ that you'd never really suspect him of unless he'd decided he loved you. It was all in the little details. His hair stuck up just so when Break ran his hands through it; his earrings would drape across his cheeks when Liam was bending over him, and catch the light if there was any. Those hands out of his gloves — they were as elegant as Break's, long-fingered and looking like they were _meant_ to be on his skin, though that could have been Break's tiny, oft-crushed romantic side talking.

Once, Break had made a snarky comment about the whole thing while Liam was busy kissing his way down Break's stomach, and those eyes had snapped up and stared at Break like they _owned_ him.

He'd never been so breathless in all his life. If anyone else ever looked at him that way, the expression would be kicked from their face before they even knew Xerxes Break was _moving_. That was Break's distinctly unromantic side talking.

That look was the big one, the one that Break often thought of in the middle of the night (or, more inconveniently, in the middle of a meeting), but there was also — ah, the way their skin looked together, the subtle differences in tone that became so much more obvious when they were right next to one another; the way the waistband of Liam's pants sat across his hips. His shoulders with firelight on them — he went _very_ well with firelight — and the way his eyes would fall shut for a moment whenever Break shoved him down and climbed on top of him only to snap open again and _watch_ him like a story moving up and down —

"Xerxes. Are you alright?"

Break stirred. That was Liam's breath in his ear. "You ask me that so often," he mused, recovering from his thoughts.

"Well, I wonder," Liam said peevishly, but oh, so quietly. "I know you're bored, but it's rather obvious that you're staring at the wall. Pay attention. I think we're getting to the important bit now."

Ahaha! _In the middle of a meeting._

Break didn't bother to disguise his sigh as he turned his attention back to whatever Duke Nightray was babbling on about. He would manage to hold it there for maybe thirty seconds before his mind wandered again, most likely. And the man standing just behind him and a little to his right, who no one ever really saw, would keep trying to drag him back; and he'd also be coming to visit later that night, because he somehow _always knew_ when Break wanted his attention.

Xerxes couldn't really see him anymore either, of course. But he _had_. And what a difference it had made.


End file.
